


APH EE Week Prompts

by qualisign



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F, Gen, apheeweek, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-01 08:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10185338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qualisign/pseuds/qualisign
Summary: All SFW Prompts from APH EE Week. Pairings, ratings, and AU are listed in chapter titles. Slashes indicate ship, plus signs indicate friendship or family.Because it's EE week, all are Estonia-centered. They will be posted by prompt day and not.... when I actually wrote them. This was quite an exercise in willpower! And, I almost managed to do a fanfic a day... before taking a two week break and finishing the last two. Might be looking to do requests in the future though, since this went rather well!





	1. The Collective Memory [T] [Character Death Warning] [Estonia + America]

**Prompts:** Dream + Orchestra

 

He blinked once, and his friend was still in the driver’s seat, playing show tunes so loud that he couldn’t hear his own thoughts.

He blinked again, and the two of them were on the side of the road, Alfred’s old Chevy smashed into a pine tree… the wheels still spinning. It had all happened so fast, he didn’t know what he did, or how he was there, or what had caused Alfred to swerve so bad, but he patted himself down and realized that he was fine. The only damage done were the pricks of the pine needles in his hands, but he was in one piece.

He relaxed for only a second. Was Alfred okay? But he was lying next to him, looking just as dazed as he was, his glasses hanging lopsided off his face but no open wounds, no blood. Eduard sighed in relief.

What about his phone? He reached into his back pocket and his heart sunk when he felt the sharp edges of a shattered screen. His phone was not even turning on. Great.

“Alfred?” He tried his legs, using the tree that ruined their night as support. “Are you okay? Is your phone working? Mine… is not going to be usable.”

“I’m fine. But, my God, Bessie,” Alfred forced out while fighting back tears, “She was my first truck, dude. My dad’s gonna kill me.”

“I know. But seriously, can you call someone?”

“I left my phone on the dashboard.”

“Why would you put it there?!” Eduard didn’t mean to raise his voice, but the panic was starting to return and his mind was jumping to worst case scenarios.

“I’ve never been in an accident!”

“Well, maybe it survived. Can you check at least, please?”

“Help me get up?” Alfred held out his hands like a baby would. If only his coach saw this side of him. But he offered his arm, and Alfred, upon realizing that he was not in any pain, haphazardly stuck his hand through the shattered glass of the passenger seat window.

“Be careful…” The last thing either of them needed was to actually hurt themselves. But for all of Alfred’s reckless abandon, though Eduard saw how the glass grazed him, he never drew blood.

“I… can’t find… it…”

“Then stop. We’ll have much better luck if we try to make ourselves visible. There were a few cars in front of us… it’s not that late. We can go back for your phone later.”

“Ed, you’re so dense.” Alfred looked straight past him, and had a dumb smile on his face like this wasn’t the worst night ever.

“ _I’m_ dense?” Alfred would probably be dead, if it weren’t for him. They balanced each other out. But, as Eduard followed Alfred’s line of sight, before them lay a beautiful building with illuminated lights. No, that wasn’t right. When Eduard first opened his eyes, he had looked deep into the woods. Tuning instruments resounded from within it, before morphing into something familiar… familiar and comforting.

And he didn’t trust it.

But Alfred, being his boisterous, naïve self, had already taken off running to the concert hall. The music _was_ comforting, though the sounds of sirens in the distance pulled him back to the road.

“We’ve found help, dude. Are you okay?”

“I’m not sure… I… why would there be a concert hall off the freeway? It wasn’t registered on your map. I’ve never heard of it.”

Eduard was one step away from retreating back to the comfortable familiarity of regular trees, regular cars, but memories that were not his overwhelmed him. It was them, not Alfred, that made him take the first step…

“We… should only spend a moment here. That’s all.” He told himself, more than his friend. There was something about all of this that bothered him, as much as unfamiliar recollections caused for epiphany after epiphany to fire within his mind. The steps eased his worries, and Alfred seemed to be as high off euphoria as he was.

The hall had no foyer, no ticket booth, it was just the stage, with ethereal people somehow playing single-handedly in ensembles all their own. Alfred had left him, but it was hard to focus on him now, when tucked away in this impossibly large stage was the most beautiful man that Eduard had ever seen. The newfound mentality that had nestled itself inside of him, somehow more of an archive than thought at this point, drew him to this person, and in an instance of nothingness, he not only returned, but became a part of his Home. Alfred looked both the same and different, but everything had changed, thought had stopped, and he had never felt safer. The sirens from the road stopped.

* * *

“ “ _Post_

_Two Dead_

_Victims of Car Crash on Route 24 Pronounced Dead on Site_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the idea of individual, collective memories supporting nation-states, which create nation-verse.
> 
> Also, because I haven’t written the whole ‘are you dead or not who knows’ :)))) asspull yet


	2. Literacy & Power [G] [Estonian National Awakening] [Estonia + Finland, Iceland, Ireland]

**Prompts:**  Historical: Estonian National Awakening + Mythology

 

Literacy and schools were the signs of identity and class. If something wasn’t written, it didn’t exist to the elites… the ones who survived in both pen and name. With foreign ideas of enlightenment, paired with a newfound fascination with the “folk,” Estonia, still young, found his identity to mean something.  He collected words and song, and put them into the tangible permanence of books, and with his close friend, Finland, collaborated to build up a Finn-Ugric national identity.

“I exist!” Estonia proclaimed to the German elites who, for the longest time, had been the only people to live within his lands to access the tools of power and prosperity. He adapted to them, and took von Bock as his name to hid himself in the leagues among them. Literate Estonians grew gradually in number, and he found himself in debt to Sweden with the university at Tartu. But, because oral tradition was treated as impermanent, and not an objective reality of history, Estonia still had no history to wave above the great kingdoms-turned nations; not one that belonged to his people. So, give the elite what they want and prosper to escape from them another day. Unfamiliar myths and song were what prevented Estonia from becoming ahistorical in popular worldview. He had to sing the right way, write the correct things, and maintain a form of antiquity to have a voice.

“I have a history too! So does Finland! Now, I have written proof!” Written proof started the discipline of folklore in places that lacked identity like he did, with connections to a literate society in a medieval past. He had talked to Iceland, Norway, and Ireland, and they showed him their beautiful manuscripts, Finland, who was with him, lit up at the illuminated pages, and collected stories of his own myths and transcribed them in a book connecting Finland to an ancient past, like the others who were finally able to have a voice, however small, in the kingdoms they were forced into. Estonia had taken inspiration from his closest friend and ally, and the only soul whom he knew would not take advantage of him, and his own people’s tales were collected and woven into something that adhered to the popularity of German romanticism and literacy, while proclaiming the identity of his people again and again.

The road to independence required acknowledgment, so he and Finland worked together and took different approaches, music uniting them in trying to find a shared history; different from Denmark, from Sweden, from Russia, from Germany. German phonetic guides to Latin characters were applied to Estonian sounds, and Estonian became a a language of literacy. That literacy that put Estonians, as a people, on the map. That literacy that helped fuel his ventures with Finland in recording runesong. It may be a mythical history, but Estonia finally presented the Kalevipoeg as his people’s saga to his allies ; Ireland, recovering from the hit of a devastating famine, Norway, a land of superstition and working class farmers and fisherman, Iceland, with a similar story, and Finland, his best friend. They sat together in a room with their languages spread out across the floor, hidden in the shadows of the empires their bodies and people belonged to, united by a desire to one day be kingdoms of their own- like their written heroes and legends. The shadows of those less fortunate ducked behind them; places that would not develop autonomous boundaries like the Saami and the Scots. But, for now, they felt safe and welcomed in the warm glow of candlelight.

Finland leaned on Estonia’s shoulder, comforted by shared language, and some semblance of shared identity. They were the underdogs, but their stories were also fashionable, and with the fashion came traditional, valued education. Some of their people could leave their hoes and rods behind after toiling in the shadows. Rising and revolution was coming, and the written word was part of their power.

So, like every other evening, Estonia easily slipped out of Russia’s home and ran through the towns and fields, so beautiful with the cornflowers growing between the crops that they very well could have been put there by a giant. He knocked at the door to their library and entered once again to exchange stories about vikings, and kings, and springs; alliteration half from an older tradition, half made up as he went along.

“Eventually,” their little group vowed, “Our ancient heroes will make us strong and wealthy too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Experimented a little bit to pose my interests in historical theory but in Fanfic Form. Little bit nervous about incorporating that in fiction but hey!! why not?
> 
> Iceland was known to be one of the most “literate” societies in the thirteenth-fourteenth century because of the introduction of Christianity meshing with the preservation of an indigenous, oral culture. England and Ireland also had increased levels of literacy among elite classes.
> 
> Manuscript production in Old Norse and Old Irish in addition to the Latin culture was pretty unique until the rise of lay literacy in the late Middle Ages.
> 
> Finland and Estonia had their national awakening at about the same time beginning in the first half of the nineteenth century up until gaining national autonomy in the first decade of the twentieth century.
> 
> “Folklore” as a discipline emerged largely because of a fascination that elite classes had with “the folk,” hence getting things like “Estophilia” among Baltic Germans and a desire to compile traditional songs and trace a shared, Finno-ugric identity.
> 
> Unlike Old Norse epics or Old Irish manuscripts, the Finnish epic, Kalevala, and the later published Estonian epic, Kalevipoeg, were nineteenth century compilations of rune song, traditionally orally transmitted poetry, and content made up in the style of either. Literacy and education were key in the post-enlightenment construction of both history and national identity, and also bridged the gap between the German elite and Finno-ugric “folk” recognition.


	3. Like a Sister [T] [Minor Character Death] [Oldtalia] [Estonia + Hungary]

**Prompts:** Oldtalia + Painting

 

When he was a young boy, Eduard would watch her paint through a crack in the wall. He realized early-on that something was off, but it wasn’t just her. Erzsébet brought life to her works, and he thought that somehow, that could bring life to him: a sickly boy who barely ever left the house.

She eventually caught him, and her initial response was to punch him in the gut for spying on her for years. But, after he keeled over on the floor and cried (just a little bit), she felt pity for him and gave him permission to watch her if he gave her a heads up in advance. So, he took the offer.

Not wanting to cross a line, it took Eduard an additional two years to ask just how her painting worked. Erzsébet told him that she was nothing special, but Eduard knew better, even at that young age. He caught how her works moved, and moved quite literally. It was as though if he touched them, they would open up new worlds.

He was well into his teens when Erzsébet stopped painting, and when her disposition changed. She always had a tired look about her then, and he would catch her staring off into the distance.

“Can I trust you with something?” She asked, completely out of the blue, one day when they were both sitting in what had become comfortable silence.

“What is it?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You can trust me.” Because, who else was there for them to trust? Erzsi had horrific rumors circling around about her that ranged from torturing mice to committing arson, and Eduard was out of school for large swaths of time with his weak immune system.

Erzsi nervously glanced around, to make sure that there were no eyes watching from within the walls of her makeshift studio. “What if I told you that I was a witch?”

“Weren’t you always one?”

“Weren’t you always one?” Erzsébet parroted right back at him, slowing her words down in the most exaggerated way she could manage. This wasn’t a fight he was going to win, so he closed his mouth before Erzsi’s famed, sharp tongue could truly start making holes in him. “Technically, yes.”

“And you’re telling me?”

“Because you’re basically like my little brother, and I _hate_ keeping secrets.” And with that, she demonstrated her ability with a painting of their secondary school. Eduard looked on in fascination more than fear as she burned the canvas to the ground.

There was no school to return to the next day, for a fire broke out in the middle of the night. No deaths, but Erzsi was nowhere to be found. He later found her letter in the place they usually met, stating that she needed to visit distant family in Austria for a time, and that enclosed was something that would preserve his liveliness. So, Eduard was left to worry…

* * *

War dawned on the horizon, the second one that would throw all corners of Europe and beyond into a massive struggle. Eduard didn’t get much choice in fighting for Germany, against his friends who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time on the other side forcefully enlisted in the Russian army. But, at least, he had put some money aside to visit Erzsi in Austria when the war had come to pass. He had to cling to that hope, because aiming a gun at a fellow countryman whose parents had likely celebrated unity for the first time left him feeling cold and distant. The enlisted soldier on the Russian side fired, and, by the miraculous of whatever was watching over him, the bullet dissolved into cinders. After, the gun jammed, but his countryman’s face was accepting of what was to come. Because death was a better option when there was possibly nothing to go back to. It was impossible for him to pull the trigger, and fearing for both his own life and the guilt of killing his own people, he fled into hiding. He clung to the hope that his family would be alright, and that they could rebuild when the war ended and those forced to fight on both sides could unite once again.

That day didn’t come. His family was reunited when he came out of hiding, but not for long. 1949 saw the deportation of his father, another face he would never see again. Erzsi didn’t get the chance to return from Austria, and Eduard was left with the pain of wondering who was still alive. The questions were never answered; not for forty long years, where the only hints at some sort of hope being the scrap of burned canvas that he kept tucked inside of his pants pocket. Even after communications opened up to him after a decade, he couldn’t reach his father or Erzsi. But, when sickness took over him, the warmth that clung to his thigh spread through him, and he found himself surviving once again.

* * *

Forty years finally brought the answers to some of Eduard’s fears. His home celebrated nationhood, and he had comfortably retired. As he got up in age, he handed off his experiences to the archives, so that the memories would not be lost. But, there was still one secret he had intended to uphold.

It was the dead of July when someone knocked on the door of his apartment. He opened the door to see an old woman dressed up in a fine, yellow summer dress. She had a spark in her eye that Eduard, even with all the time past, would never forget.

“Erzsi?”

“I can’t believe you’ve managed to stay alive.” She still was teasing him. After all those years.

Eduard couldn’t believe it, but invited her in anyways.

“Would you like tea?”

“Would you like tea?” She parroted right back at him with the same, degrading, intentional drawl that Eduard knew wasn’t as bad as she made it out to be.

“It’s definitely you, alright.” The dryness in his tone just made her laugh though. She sat down, and only then, did age look like it did a number on her. Her poor joints looked like they were about to snap as she made herself comfortable.

“I hope I was able to help at least once? As long as you kept our little secret?” Erzsi asked.

“What do you mean?”

“My gift to you was to make sure you didn’t end up doing something stupid. This is incredibly belated, but…”

“No, I understand. It’s just so good to see you again.” He wrapped his arms around Erzsi’s wiry frame and held her close, reminding himself that she was real and that, for all his rational thought, that she had been with him in some way the whole time. His father never returned, his mother had been long dead. Erzsi was now the only family that he could cling to, and she had come back at just the right moment. “You’re like a sister to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just add witches to everything, please.
> 
> Hungary + Estonia familial friendship gives me life why isn't there more of it?
> 
> Erzsi is the Hungarian pet name equivalent of "Liz."


	4. Late Night Leveling [G] [Dorm/RPG AU] [nyo!Estonia/nyo!Japan]

**Prompts:** RPG + Pets

I was inspired by [this art](http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=4795586) by Jon Taira, because honest to God, I’ve been obsessed with it for like, a year

 

 

Initially, Kerli wasn’t sure what to think when she moved into her first apartment. She just wanted to get out of a dorm situation so she wouldn’t have to deal with loud neighbors, and have enough space to make a gaming set up with a real TV. Moving in with a stranger had its risks, but this stranger had a puppy and a flat screen, so she was optimistic.

Pochi, the puppy, was great! And Mameko Honda was pretty alright too, by roommate standards. They had both gotten super into an MMO together, and would spend hours talking to each other through Discord instead of communicating directly, and it seemed to be more comfortable for the both of them.

Pochi was nestled on Kerli’s feet that night, with the cat they had purchased together laying on the corner of Mameko’s blanket on the opposite side of the room. With the blinds all pulled down, the room was clouded in darkness besides the glow of the newly acquired fish tank and their own screens. Mameko had a problem with pets in that she wanted all of them, and Kerli was not opposed. But tonight, the two of them were doing completely different things, making the silence between them all the more palpable.

If Kerli had to reply to one more email about people canceling appointments, she was going to die, and Mameko looked like she was having a much better time playing some JRPG that Kerli had never heard of. Maybe, just once, they could break their unwritten pact of nighttime silence and bond in the real world instead of through their avatars?

Kerli pushed herself away from the desk and sat a fair distance away from Mameko on the couch, pushing aside old crisp bags and like, 20 of Mameko’s plushies. She didn’t respond, invested in her game and leaning forward as though that would help her focus. It was comfortable, and the two of them sat in silence for a long while until Pochi jumped up on her owner’s lap and ruined any concentration she had.

Kerli couldn’t help but smile at how flustered Mameko got trying to balance dog pets with her boss battle, as though she couldn’t push Pochi away.

“Maybe Pochi is trying to tell you to take a break before your eyes start to hurt.”

“O..Oh… right. Maybe. It might be good to stop, if I’m still going to cook tonight.” Mameko yawned and stretched, scratching behind Puchi’s ears. “What time is it even?”

“Four in the morning.”

“Wait… what? Where did the time go? I… I need to get up early and make breakfast.”

“We can sleep in. It’s Friday. It’s fine.”

Mameko seemed unsure, but continued playing anyways, muttering under her breath that she just needed to get to the next save point and then she’ll stop. Kerli moved in to pet Pochi, to distract the poor dog from pawing at her owner for attention. The boss was beaten and progress was saved, and Mameko, enchanted by Pochi, got Kerli to stand up and turn off the PS4 for her.

There was  a moment, in the gentle glow of neon lights, where Mameko’s face seemed to shine. She was a beautiful girl, even when bundled up under a pile of blankets, and Kerli had brief thoughts of joining her there. Very brief, as that would be ridiculously awkward for the both of them. But, Mameko turned her head to face her and the two of them made eye contact for an uncomfortably long period of time. It was something about Mameko’s parted lips and the distant electronic music playing from Kerli’s long abandoned headphones that just made the moment. Kerli leaned forward and kissed her.

It only lasted a second, because Mameko wasn’t reacting and Kerli was angry at herself for even indulging in that much. Mameko brought a hand to her mouth and left it there, clearly unsure of what to do and how to react.

“Kerli?”

“F…Forget that ever happened.”

“It’s okay. I… think I should go to bed, and so should you. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“No! It’s fine…” Kerli trailed off, “We don’t have to talk about it ever again. Just forget it ever happened.”

Mameko shook her head. “I’m not upset. Don’t worry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kerli is my selected name for nyo!Estonia after Estonia’s pop princess, Kerli Kõiv, who is my Goddess. Although, I'm indecisive and end up using a different name every time anyways.


	5. 1809 [T] [Slavery (Serfdom) Warning] [Estonia + Switzerland]

**Prompts:** Ice

 

If Vash Zwingli knew of anything, it was that Roderich von Edelstein was a fickle man who was too weak-willed to manage an estate on his own. He was stressed, as his grain supply had diminished, and he would be unable to make a profit.

_Herr Zwingli, you’re far better than me at turning around the worst of situations. Find a loophole for me so I can sell grain this year._ _The civil government keeps trying redistribute all the grain back to the workers, but I need to be able to maintain this estate for the long run. The peasants keep complaining about no food._

What was he supposed to do about that? And why did von Edelstein assume that he was _that_ underhanded? It wasn’t like he had sold the property well. Outside of being a manor, Vash knew all-too-well about the grain shortages of the past two years. 1809 was supposed to be a year of recovery, von Edelstein said, but honest to God, Vash had never been to Estland and had no way of proving whether or not that was true.

_Handle the harvest. The peasants hate me. I’m sure someone new in charge will increase morale at the very least._

The whining went on for a month before Vash agreed, and made preparations to travel to the other side of the goddamn continent because Roderich wasn’t responsible to take care of anyone but himself.

* * *

There weren’t many resources actively available in Jerwen, or the manor itself, so Vash felt largely unprepared for the climate… or the state of Roderich’s property. He missed the mountains, and considered the wide stretches of flat land entirely uninteresting. Late autumn turned the world brown, and the sky was overcast with thick fog. It was depressing, and if it had been anything like that during the summer, it was no wonder the corn didn’t grow.

It felt equally strange that, even if temporarily, the people working for him were technically his property that he had to take care of. The state intervention was truly a blessing if maltreatment happened, but with a reserve of only five tons? How did Roderich ever think he’d have enough of a crop to ship out? From a practical perspective, if his peasants died from starvation, he’d have no one to work the fields.

The rye had already been harvested, and the winter had started moving in. No snow had fallen, but the temperature was still low and blew through Vash’s coat. The land surveyed was as bleak as he expected it to be, with not a soul out in the fields any longer. It was as though even the ghosts were silent.

He strayed far from the manor before coming to the homes of those who worked the land. The buildings stood in stark contrast to the gray sky, small, and likely built by the families who moved into them.

He stood in front of the first for far too long, and was disturbed from his quiet contemplation when the door of the first swung open. A boy who could not be older than nineteen stared directly back at him, before speaking in a tongue that Vash had never heard before.

„Mida sa tahad?“

„Was war das?“

The boy gave him a look, the two of them locked in their misunderstandings. He reached into his shirt pocket, and presented Vash with a folded up piece of paper.

What it was, Vash uncovered, was a government order, written in both low German and what he could assume was Estonian, with instructions to report peasant maltreatment. Von Edelstein clearly underplayed how bad things truly were, and he felt guilt by association. This boy glared at him as though he were the Devil himself. What could he say or do? There was no way to explain his situation, or his desire to help. Peasant or not, everyone deserved to eat.

It hurt even more when he saw the face of a young girl emerge from behind the boy’s leg, eyes sunk deep into her little head and face stark white with illness. The boy clearly did not want him anywhere near her, because when she spoke to him, he motioned for her to get back inside. He slammed door and pushed past Vash, muttering more in that tongue that Vash didn’t understand.

He was so taken aback, hurt and confused and… helpless. That was the first time in his adult life that he felt helpless and at a loss for words.

When he returned back to von Edelstein’s comfortable manor, he had the luxuries of a plush chair and a roaring fire place to ease his nerves and push the guilt to the back of his head. He couldn’t handle it; either dealing with the reprocussions of von Edelstein’s inability to feed his own peasants, or having to see the hatred and fear in that boy’s eyes again.

He composed a letter that very night addressed back to von Edelstein, demanding him to take responsibility for his own actions, and that the sweat and blood shed by his peasants would come back to him on judgment day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1807-1808 were bad harvest years in the Livonia provinces (modern Estonia & Latvia)
> 
> German names for Estonian places used
> 
> The civil government got its shit together in making sure that privately owned peasants could report mistreatment, and required there to be a grain reserve so to prevent famine
> 
> This included reports in Estonian that encouraged Estonian peasants to report mistreatment, mostly in regards to being fed.
> 
> Estonia, even though owned TECHNICALLY by the Russian Empire, was still largely governed and run by these manors owned by a Baltic German elite.
> 
> There’s like a shit ton more information but I’m tired and I don’t want the notes to be longer than the fic rip.


	6. P2 Lab [G] [Poketalia] [Estonia + Sweden]

Their eyes locked, and Eduard had to use all of his self-control not to visibly panic. Before him stood a stranger, large and foreboding, who had broken into the labs of the Plasma Frigate and was glaring him down from the other side of the room. It was so late at night, most had gone to their dorms to sleep. Even as the security system that Eduard installed blared sirens, it would take approximately ten to fifteen minutes for anyone to get from their quarters to the labs on the other end of the ship. He was partially glad that, out of all nights, he had stayed behind, but also fearful because why him? He was intended to continue his project on the island their team had just bought and was going to have to use the entire next day to acclimate.

He had to carry an air of control nonetheless. It was just some senseless thug, someone that could easily be defeated in the context of battle. Because he had his Pokemon to defend him even when this man looked like he could crush him in two seconds. More unnerving was that so far, the intruder had yet to speak.

“Trespassing here was an idiotic decision.” His voice wavered, and the man hadn’t so much as flinched; even with the sirens blaring in the background. “Especially alone.”

Eduard wasn’t above having his Pokemon beat the intruder down. He just had to hold out through whatever he had brought with him. Then, he could claim to single-handedly bring an outside invasion down (all of one, but who would know of his embellishment if he wrapped this up quickly enough for no one to see)?

However, much to his surprise, the intruder raised his hands in… surrender, was it? Eduard wasn’t buying it and refused to relax from his defensive position.

“C'n we taalk f'rst?”

Was that accent from… Sinnoh possibly? He wasn’t sure, and it didn’t matter. For security’s sake, he threw his first Pokemon out as leverage between them. Porygon-Z, for its goofy appearance, created a barrier to protect its master. The poor thing may have been an experimental failure to travel through dimensions, but at the very least, it had a physical manifestation.

The intruder, on the other hand, hesitated for a fraction of a second, before officially accepting Eduard’s challenge. A Froslass emerged from the light of the intruder’s pokeball, which set up further proof that he was possibly from Sinnoh. Still an assumption, but it was better than being in the position of knowing nothing. Eduard set himself up to defend, keeping a careful eye out for the intruder’s first move.

But, the intruder wasn’t calling out any attacks.

_What?_

“You c'n start.”

_What???_

“Thunderbolt? Then?”

Porygon-Z still responded to the hesitation, and lightning sparked from its body, hitting Froslass directly. Her owner made no attempt to tell her to dodge it and continued to hover over the battle in silence.

The intruder’s commands of Froslass were lackluster at best. He kept using ice beam, even after Eduard had set up Conversion 2 and made Porygon-Z immune to ice attacks. It was easy to tell that the intruder was throwing the battle.

“You could respect me enough to try,” Eduard called out over the still blaring sirens. He would hear them in his nightmares. Back-up would be coming shortly, and he gave up on dealing with this… situation by himself. He just hoped that the intruder wasn’t intentionally stalling…

“Berwald? You wrapped things up and gotten those files on Genesect yet?”

He knew it. At least Intruder’s accomplice had no tact in regards to secrecy. And there didn’t sound like there were many with him, so they would still be absolutely crushed by the sheer size of Team Plasma’s staff.

“Be quiet, Matthias,” came a much more firm, but warm, voice… clearly fighting a natural accent. Two more faces appeared in the door, both appearing somewhat surprised that Eduard was there. Would they not expect him to be? He worked there!

“Lukas, I thought you said the labs would be unoccupied,” Intruder’s Accomplice One (Matthias apparently), said… loud enough for Eduard to easily hear. No tact indeed.

“They were supposed to be.”

Intruder, Berwald, hardly acknowledged his cohorts and continued to try and hit Porygon-Z with the same move that it had been impervious to since the beginning. “Th’s one is stronger thaan the oth'rs.”

What? No, he wasn’t. Berwald had just thrown the battle from the star–

This was all a set-up. He didn’t know what for, but it was. Also, where was the rest of the staff?

“We already beat or scared away the rest of the staff, can you _please_ turn off the sirens?” Lukas shouted over the noise.

Arceus save him and Giratina damn him, everyone was already gone. It was time to go for the emergency plan. What slept in the labs was a 300 million-year-old Pokemon, just starting to be modified in order to serve Team Plasma’s purpose. It remained dormant in the pokeball it was stored in. For all of their leader’s love of theatrics, it was smarter to hide a weapon in plain sight. He had Porygon-Z set up a barrier, and scrambled for the ball, holding it close to his chest in case someone grabbed for it. Which was good, Berwald might have been throwing the battle, but his friends didn’t, as they quickly shattered Porygon’s barrier and wailed on it with their own Pokemon. Three against one was hardly fair. But, then again, neither was a barely tested pseudo-legendary, which he had no qualms with releasing from its pokeball to avoid losing all of his team’s hard work.

From the light of the contraption came the beautiful result of years of research, standing with menacing, red eyes and a newly installed cannon. It made a strange, hissing sound, but instead of doing what it should and battling for its master, it targeted its cannon for the wall and shot a gaping hole into the hallway.

“No… that’s not… Stop!” Eduard wasn’t sure if his voice registered to Genesect’s over the sirens, rushing to turn them off. But, by the time that the dust settled and the room calmed, Genesect was gone, the sounds of walls collapsing echoing in the distance.

“… We need to g’t out of heere.”

Berwald’s partners had already taken that as a cue to leave, and they stood anxiously in the frame of the door.

“Come on!” Said the loud one, who seemed even louder when he didn’t have to compete with the security system. But Berwald remained locked in place. It put Eduard on edge. The sounds of destruction from the floor above him left him with a sinking feeling in his chest, and a desire to escape just as strong as the intruders’. But, on the other hand, two years of work! If he stayed behind for just long enough for the intruders to leave, then he could save what he could without the threat of it being immediately stolen.

“You c'ming?” That thick accent cut through his panic-induced thoughts and threw him off. His hesitance wasn’t good enough of an answer, because Berwald withdrew his Froslass back to its pokeball and, with the barrier long dissolved, grabbed Eduard’s wrist. “Caall your P'kemon back. It’s n’t safe for y'u to staay.”

Panic rose back into Eduard’s chest. At least he had some of his research backed up because there was no way he could save anything from the lab now! He could say goodbye to any future funding, because he was so terrified of Berwald and how he could snap him in half that he let him lead him out of the labs and into the remains of the Plasma Frigate. Genesect had caused so much irreplaceable damage… what if it found its way to the engine room of the flying ship?

“What about…” Berwald was dragging him faster than he could run, and it made it hard to question him, “what about everyone else?”

“They’ll have to get off on their own right,” Lukas responded far in front of him.

Comforting.

The three trespassers apparently had Pokemon waiting for them; a Lapras, which would have been useless if the frigate had taken off once again, but it didn’t and wouldn’t. Two of them released their flying types and landed safely on their living life raft. Berwald released a Staraptor of his own and offered his hand. But, oh no, going down with a sinking ship might be better. The island was only a short swim away and…

He didn’t get much of a choice, Berwald grabbed his arm once again and hoisted him upon the back of the foreign bird. He wrapped his arms around Berwald’s waist for fear of his life and squeezed his eyes shut, but when he opened them again, the trip down was over.

The ship had barely sunk down in the shallow water it docked in, Genesect had disappeared into the night, and the intruders informed him that they were employed by _their own so-called prince_ to personally stop the Genesect project without his _father_ finding out. Eduard was too shocked to get angry, and Berwald was still intimidating, but he fumed over it for the next week or so, after having been left on the island with the brand-new lab and nothing to work with.

He shouldn’t have gotten that funding cut, he should have gotten a _raise_ for the things he had to deal with, and a solitary position where he never saw the team that had personally ruined his career again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, like, really cheesy. I’m sorry. Remember when I used to be really into Black and White 2? Those are still my favorite Pokemon games rip. Sinnoh probably having the Tohoku dialect helps me stop having an existential crisis over writing Sweden and what to do about accents.
> 
> My grammar software also has a field day with Sweden. Let me fix the fact that I still don't know where to place commas in peace.


End file.
